


Good Omens: Hound of Hell

by Leenden



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leenden/pseuds/Leenden
Summary: A hound of hell has gotten loose on earth and is threatening to wreck havoc. Aziraphale might be the right angel for the job if he knew more about this denizen from hell. Luckily, he has a friend in lower places.





	1. Unexpected Happenings

In the beginning, there was never a bond stronger than a boy and his dog. Well, that’s not entirely true. The first great bond was man and woman, then there was woman and woman, and we can’t forget man and man. So the fourth greatest bond ever created was a boy and his dog.

Since the time of mankind’s departure from the great Garden of Eden, there has been a need, a partnership that would keep them safe even in the dark hours.

Thus, the first dog was created.

Adam held out his sword, firelight rolling up the blade illuminated a few more feet in front of him. Another whimper sounded in the darkness. Something small, insignificant, and yet enticing at the same time.

It was Steve, Alice’s husband and Adam’s lover, who bravely stepped beyond the amber light cast forth. Eve, Adam’s wife and Alice’s lover called to him with no answer.

Adam’s back tightened, if he didn’t return soon, he’d have to go for him. It was a prospect that frightened him. Nothing survived long outside the safety of shelter and an even less time beyond the light of the fire.

“Steve!”

He reappeared, something clutched in his hands.

“Why are you shouting?”

“You scared us half to death, I thought you got-”

“Eaten, did you hear the smacking lips of a large beast?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He rolled his eyes, they shown white against his mocha skin.

“What do you have there?” Eve asked, struggling to free herself from beneath a fur.

Her rounded belly made it hard to move.

“I know not,” He said, holding them out.

“It’s a baby beast?” Adam said, cocking his head. “A beast-let.”

“Aye but a cute one and they come in a pair.”

Steve held them up to the firelight. Adam lowered his sword into the burning embers of the fire pit. He cradled the small beast. It looked at him with large brown eyes; eagerly licking his fingers before commencing to bite them. A laugh burst forth, it was the kind of laugh that only cute, smaller versions of something could evoke.

“Amazing,” He whispered. “Look at this, Eve.”

“What is it?” She said, stroking its head, to which it licked her and she laughed.

“It’s a dog.” Crawley said, to the white robed man standing next to him.

They were a good distance away from the humans, so they couldn’t be heard. Aziraphale’s lips were turned upward with an impossibly large smile. He looked at Crawley, attempting to speak and just shook his head before looking back to the humans with their dogs.

“It’s incredible, where did you get the idea for such a thing?” He finally managed.

“Oh, nowhere in particular, it just kinda came to me.” He smiled.

It was a lie, of course, one does not join the ranks of the fallen by being honest, now do they? Still, Aziraphale approved of this gift to mankind; a companion to keep the people safe at night. What a marvelous idea?

“Crawley,” He smiled at his friend, it was much the same kind of smile that might be caused by a cute, smaller version of something. “I’m surprised at you.”

“Oh shut up.” He said, not missing the chance to smile back.

“No, no, I’m serious. You keep this up and you might Crawl-ey you way back into heaven, someday.” He tittered at his own joke.

“Ugh, hell preserve us, was that a joke? Keep that up and you’ll be right down there with me.”

They both laughed, looking on as Adam and Steve played with the newest members of the family. Don’t worry, Alice and Eve didn’t get left out. Aziraphale saw to it personally, thus cats were brought into this world. In truth, they weren’t as well received as dogs. The angel may have modeled them too closely after himself, unfortunately. That was neither here nor there as this was not their story.

***

Fast forward to the year 2001, London;

One thing to expect in this earthly realm, there was always a moment away from the hustle and bustle of daily life to share a moment with a friend; whether it’s over a cup of coffee, a spot of lunch, or a strenuous visit involving the forces of heaven and hell.

Crowley, demon formally known as Crawley, stood by the duck pond, his jaw tightened in contemplation. The sky was gray and gloomy like always. The trees and grass were a vibrant green and beautiful, not that he really got to enjoy it much. His world wore a shaded filter from the sunglasses that hid his serpent’s eyes. Not that he minded much, as the inventor of sunglasses; he liked to consider himself looking cool as hell.

That was the least of his worries now, after a frantic call from his friend, urgently asking for a meeting. He’d sped all the way here, ran several red lights, and almost rundown a person at a crosswalk. Point is, he was here and his friend was not. In fact, his friend was over thirty minutes late. Very odd, Aziraphale was always on time that was something Crowley could depend on even if he himself was late.

What was taking him so long?

What indeed?

“Crowley.” A demure voice came up on his right.

“Azair-” Crowley started but stopped when he saw his friend.

Usually, Aziraphale was the picture of elegance. His pearly jacket always pressed. His shirt tucked in, and not a curly white hair out of place, but not this time.

Aziraphale jacket was torn, one whole sleeve missing. His collar uneven and flipped eschew while his shirt was ruffled about him. A tear ran the length of one of his legs, flapping about absurdly. There was a paper thin scratch, dripping blood down his face. Angels don’t get scratches, not from mortal instruments at least.

“What the heaven happened to you?” His sharp mouth dipped in astonishment.

“Well, I – it’s…It goes something like this.”

***

Aziraphale hefted a book from the middle of his newest collection and ponders the binding for a moment. Daughters of the Elder God; it was a historical telling of a tentacle god who delivered his seven daughters to the Earth’s sea to help him rise to power. All of which was false of course. There never was any tentacle god; Aziraphale would be the one to know such things, as he had prior dealings with _the_ god and she certainly bore no tentacles.

Placing the book back on the shelf, he gave a flustered grunt. It wasn’t the contents of the book that had his feathers ruffled. It was the fact that, for whatever reason, the fourth book in a series of seven was half an inch taller than the others. They were all the same edition, he’d check numerous times. Why would anyone do such a cruel thing?

Before he could wonder on it further, he heard a scratching at the front door. He stopped and craned his neck, attempting to hear it further. There it was again. It drew him from the back of his store.

Who could it be?

He crossed the room, opening the door to the cool early afternoon breeze, nothing. No one was there, well, no one interested in coming to peruse his books. Aziraphale put his head on its side, smoothing his pressed pearl jacket indignantly before turning back inside.

“Ragamuffins, I dare say.” He whispered to himself, starting back to his task.

The door behind him barely had a moment to close before it burst open again with a harsh jingle from the bell tacked to it. The angel turned on his heels, greeted by a tall man in a silvery suit. His salt and peppered hair slicked back, perfectly. A mocking smile plastered on his perfect face.

 “Aziraphale.” He clapped his hands excitedly.

“Why – Gabriel, what – ah brings you here?”

“Honestly,” He said, running a finger along the corner of his mouth as if picking his words carefully. “There may be a problem?”

“A problem?” He asked, his gaze going from one side of the room to the other, checking to see if he left something incriminating out. “What kind?”

“Word has gotten to me that something may be amiss.” He urged with a nudging of his perfect chin.

“Amiss sir?”

“Yes, apparently a hell hound has gotten loose from, you know where,” Gabriel pointed downward. “It is now running amok here in London. Have you, or any of your people, seen anything out of the ordinary?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips; they grew so thin they almost disappeared. “No, nothing at all, but a hell hound loose, here, isn’t that a sign of-”

“No! No, no, not that kind of hell hound.” He chuckled. “This is one of the smaller ones, the ones that patrol the outer sanctum but are still capable of causing havoc.”

“Ah, I see, we wouldn’t want that now would we?” Aziraphale offered a demure smile.

“No we do not.” He said definitively.

“So, if I see it, should I…” He let his words trail suggestively.

“Kill it, no, don’t do that. We’ll just lock it away in heaven until its owner comes to claim him. Killing hell hounds is an ugly business. You know the old saying?”

“I do sir, a boy and his dog and all that.”

“Precisely,” He laughed again, this one was more pitched and fake. “If you happen to see the beast-”

“Worry not, Gabriel, if I find him, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Ah, wonderful, I knew I could rely on you, Aziraphale.” With a firm nod, he took his leave.

Aziraphale wasted no time picking up the phone and dialing the number of his best friend and the only other person that could help him with this problem.

When the phone clicked, Aziraphale didn’t give him a moment to speak. “Crowley, I need to-”

\-- _Hey this is Crowley; you know what to do, do it with style_.--

“Blast it, why don’t you answer your-”

“Yeah, I’m here, what is it?” Crowley’s pointed voice cut in.

“Oh, Crowley, thank heavens, listen, there’s something urgent I need to talk to you about. Meet me at the park, the usual spot.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in about twenty.”

“Excellent,” Aziraphale said, moving to hang up the phone before jerking it back. “Thank you and goodbye.”

It was too late, the only response he got was the dial tone, to which he hung up the antique phone.

“Right, must be on my way.” Aziraphale said, patting his pocket for the keys.

When he turned around, he was halted by a pair of the deepest red eyes he’d ever seen. Hot breath washed over him, curling his lips. A crude, curved smile frightened him to the point that his wings popped free, knocking over the tea table behind him. A long line of drool burned a path through his pearly jacket.

“Oh dear,” He panted.

Now, there are times in this world, when things happen for expected reason, such as the mail arriving on time, or a favorite television show airs precisely when it’s meant to. This was not one of those times. This is what someone would call unexpected happenings. This unexpected happens came in the form of one large hell hound that managed to fool the angel into opening the door to let him in without being noticed.

Anyone passing by the shop at this moment, hearing Aziraphale’s cries for help, would quietly go about their day, not wanting to investigate these unexpected happenings.


	2. Expected Happenings

The Bentley dodged in and out of traffic with a hail of honks following in its passing. Aziraphale clung tight to the handle above him, its name hung from his lips at each swerve.

“Slow down, Crowley!”

“Not on your life. If we’re going to catch this thing, we have to act fast.” He said through gritted teeth.

Crowley threw the Bentley into a drift at the red light. He snapped his fingers and the four oncoming cars in the intersection bounced harmlessly over them and fell back in place as if nothing happened. Keeping in his pace, he pressed the pedal to the floor and barreled down the road.  

One final screeching halt and they came to a rest at the curb next to his antique book store.

“Crowley!”

The demon’s name was a curse word on Aziraphale’s lips and hearing it made the demon smile. “Oh calm down, will you? It’s not like you can die.”

“No, but they can!”

“Oh, right,” Crowley’s face softened. “I should be a little more ginger with the frail beings, huh?”

“Just a bit.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Crowley’s smirk was more playful than condescending and it always managed to lure a smile from the angel.

Aziraphale opened the door, stepping out onto the curb. Crowley was already rounding the Bentley to meet him.

Politely, the angel held out the aptly named handle and says. “You might want this back.”

“Oh man, you ripped it off, I wasn’t going that fast.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Not fast enough to make you call its name.” Crowley snickered, gesturing with the handle.

 “I would never say such a thing.” He lied; he’d uttered the two words at least half a dozen times between 14th Street and Tolliver, but would never admit it to Crowley, for fear of never living it down.

“Alright, let’s go in and for hell’s sake.” He said, snapping his finger to repair the broken handle.

The angel took a step towards the door and Crowley pulled him back; he was stronger than he looked. “Make yourself look presentable; you don’t want the hell hound to think he got the best of you, do you?”

Aziraphale looked down at himself, exasperated. “You don’t think I’ve tried. Even I would spare a miracle or two on this ghastly mess.”

“Nothing happens, huh?”

“No.”

Crowley pulled his glasses down the bridge of his angular nose. He gave the angel a once over, to which Aziraphale, did each of the following; he breathed in sharply, puffing out his chest, straightened his back, making himself look taller, and rose his head, trying to alleviate the boyish slope of his chin.

The demon ‘tsked’ and snapped his fingers. The fabric tightened, mended, and went back to its pressed and perfect form. Aziraphale was beside himself.

“How did you-”

“Miracles are rubbish against a hell beast’s meddling, you know that?” He winked, pushing his sunglasses back in place.

“Right.” Aziraphale blushed, smoothing down his jacket as if they’re ruffled feathers.

The pair walked into the bookshop, Aziraphale’s eyes went wide at the disaster inside. Shelves were knocked over, tables overturned, all of his books lay strewn about haphazardly and in the center of it all, lay the great beast on a mound of shredded books. It was immense, roughly the size of a horse. Its short black fur was slick, like it was wet with mucus. His long ears lay back against its thick, muscular neck. When he breathed out, the pages of the book, he used as a pillow, melted and curled.

“Oh my-”

“Dreadnaught!” Crowley interrupted.

“No, I was going to say ‘god’.”

“Not that,” He scoffed, jerking his glasses off. “This, this is Dreadnaught.”

“Is that a new variety of hell hound or something?” Aziraphale asked, baffled.

“What, no, he’s my hell hound from, you know, down there.” Crowley stated as if his friend had cursory knowledge.

“You have a hound? Oh right, of course you do. That where you got the inspiration to give dogs to humans.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“What, are you still on about that?”

“You lied to me?” He turned on his heels to face the demon.

“Yeah, I did and I explained it all to you and even apologized.” Crowley snapped.

Aziraphale hugged himself, resting a cheek on his hand. “Right, you did. Still, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, _you_ had one.”

“Well, I didn’t; not really, I had to leave Dreadnaught behind but now, here he is.” Crowley said, falling to his knees next to the dog.

“Who is my beautiful boy?” He cooed

The dog was now sitting at full height, a near six feet tall, and Crowley was on his hands and knees talking and cooing at the dog’s paws. Aziraphale cocked his head, confused by this. The hell hound stared down at his master with the same confusion as the angel.

“What are you doing?” He asked finally, hoping to figure out what in heaven’s name was going on.

“I am loving on my dog.” He said indignantly.

“Your dog is up there.” Aziraphale pointed upwards, toward the hound’s face, to which the dog smiled its pointed grin.

“No, he’s here, look-” Crowley’s face twisted as if he were having an epiphany. “Right, angels and demons see things differently, hang on.”

He got up and snapped his fingers again. Nothing happened, at least not to Aziraphale, Crowley on the other hand was looking into the dog’s red eyes.

“Dreadnaught,” He said fondly. “I’ve missed you so bloody much.”

The hell hound huffed and licked his face with one large, black tongue. The force behind the lick staggered the demon, threatening to knock him over. He laughed and hugged the dog full around the neck. This time the dog laughed with the familiar sound of someone laughing at a cute and smaller version of something.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, his own thin lips slipping into a smile as he exhaled. “He seems quite tame with you around.”

“Right, right, I’m sure he was just trying to play with you.”

“Well, he didn’t do a very good job; he nearly decorporaled me.”

“Nah, you’re just soft.”

“Says the demon falling all over himself for a stupid hound.” He tittered again.

“Touché.” Crowley laughed.

Remember that unexpected happenings, happen all the time and when you least expect them. This was one such time; Aziraphale couldn’t have been more taken off guard if the devil himself punched a hole through the wall.

The door burst open and the sound of polished leather shoes clacked into the establishment. Thankfully, these were the sounds, Aziraphale trained himself to recognize in a moment’s notice, so he could work quickly to circumvent the possible problem on the horizon.

 “Quiet both of you and stay out of sight.” He urged, started towards the front of the store.

Crowley looked at the hound and they both looked to the angel.

“Who is it?” He hissed.

“It’s-”

“Good heavens, Aziraphale, are you here? Are you alright?”

Gabriel had once again made an unexpected appearance and this time, it couldn’t have come at a worst opportunity. Aziraphale stepped from the back room, a frantic look in his eyes.

Standing in the entryway of the store was Gabriel and he’d brought Michael this time. They both gaped around the disheveled shop.

“It was here.” He said before his brain could work out the details. “I came through the door and started ripping my books apart; I was overcome by fear so I hid in the back room.”

“It was here? Why didn’t you call me? We would have come at once.” Gabriel said.

This was when Aziraphale’s mind came to a halt right before an answer could be ascertained, leaving the poor angel fishing for an explanation.

“I, well, you see, the problem is, he – the beast – was out here and I was in there and, you see, out here is – where my phone is.” He said, chuckling nervously.

“Oh, I see,” Gabriel’s eyebrow drew taut over his eyes. “The dastardly hound cut you off from calling in support, devious.”

“Quite right!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Crowley and the hound share an indignant look. He would apologize for this later but for now, ridding the shop of the other two angels was much more pressing matter.

“Which way did he go?”

“I don’t know, I think he may have left the shop.”

“Indeed.” Gabriel nodded firmly. “Michael, do you sense anything?”

“Beyond the reeking smell of hell hound, no.”

“Right, if I were a hound of hell, where would I go?” He asked, pulling on his chin.

His eyes narrowed as if he saw something. Aziraphale tried to follow his gaze but he couldn’t quite see where the head angel was looking. Gabriel took a few steps towards the thing he was looking at.

Crowley’s back tightened and the hound responded in kind. Had he seen them? They weren’t particularly well hidden. Was the jig up? Aziraphale took a shaky breath.

“Oh my God.” He said in a disgusted tone, turning to look at the nervous angel.

“Sir?”

“Daughters of the Elder God,” He mocked a retch. “Disgusting filth, get rid of these immediately.”

“Right sir, I have a buyer en route from the states, coming to take them off my hands.”

“Ah, an American that figures. You’d do well to keep away from this form of fiction.” Gabriel said, starting towards the door. “Come Michael, the hound couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Right sir.” She said, falling in behind him.

“Aziraphale, be on the lookout, be safe. There’s no telling what this hound is capable of.”

The angel looked around at all his broken and ruined things. “I have some idea sir but thank you for the concern, tahtah.”

The two angels left the store and finally Aziraphale could breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank hell, they’re gone.” Crowley said, stepping out from the back room, the large hound trotting along.

“Yes, thank he – heaven indeed.”

Crowley peered at the seven books, still neatly stacked on the only shelf not demolished.

“The Daughters of the Elder God, huh?” He mused. “You read them?”

“Certainly not!” Aziraphale said.

“Ah, shame, some of my best writing if you ask me.”

Aziraphale eyes went wide as he looked at the demon, his mouth gaped. “You wrote them?”

“Yep.”

“Why is the fourth book taller than the others?” He said, infuriated.

“I knew it would drive a collector crazy one day.” He smiled wryly.

“Oh, you’re very funny.” Aziraphale shook his head.

“I thought so too.”

Crowley tucked his tongue at the corner of his mouth, obviously proud of himself. To make matters worse, the hound huffed a laugh at the angel’s expense.

“Hush up, the both of you and start coming up with a plan of what to do with this monstrosity before we’re caught.”


	3. A Demon and his Hound

After work traffic on the freeway was murder. This wasn’t just a statement, it was a fact. Crowley was ninety-nine percent sure he may have killed someone when he took a sharp turn from the middle lane to the off ramp. The screeching of tires and crumpling of metal painted a grim picture in his mind.

In truth, it was merely a fender bender that unexpectedly slowed traffic enough to avert a deadly crash destine to happen mere moments after the Bentley pulled off. All’s well that ends well.

Now the Bentley sat at the side of a dirt road, in front of a large open field. In the way distance, the silhouette of the nuclear reactor could be seen against the misty yellow sky. The sun managed to fight its way through just enough to make this an emotional scene.

Dreadnaught rested his head on the seat, drooling acid down the front of Crowley’s leather jacket. It was surprisingly resilient, though Aziraphale suspected it had something to do with demon clothes and the demon dog.

Crowley stared off in the distance, moping over the rushed decision to let his hound free in the rural area, surrounding London. It was the best thing Aziraphale could come up with, even amidst the several dozen ideas the demon came up with.

“Are you,” Aziraphale leaned close. “Are you alright?”

“Me? Yeah,” Crowley sniffled. “I mean, as well as can be expected, considering I’m letting one of my oldest friends loose into devil knows what.”

“You know he’ll be okay, right?”

“Maybe, what if – what if a little kid finds him and takes him home? I’ll never see him again.” Crowley said, unreasonably.

“I don’t think any little boy would be-”

Crowley, who removed his sunglasses, and the hound were staring at him blankly as if the next thing coming out of his mouth would somehow offensive.

“Things will be fine.”

“They won’t be.” Crowley said definitively.

It was the first time he’d seen his friend so sure something terrible would happen. Granted, the hound being captured by angels and taken to heaven would seal his fate because Crowley would never be allowed to set foot in heaven again, even to retrieve his dog. It’s what humans called a Catch-22. Still, there had to be something Aziraphale could say to make him feel better.

“Dammit,” Crowley said, pressing his head to the side of the hound’s broad muzzle. “It gonna take a miracle to keep you safe, Dready ol’ boy.”

Through this story, the mention of unexpected happenings has always been shown in a negative light. It should be said that sometimes unexpected happenings come with a good turn of events as well, such as the brilliant idea popping into the head of one angel in particular.

Aziraphale smiled and took Crowley’s hand. It was warm, warmer than he’d imagined it being but not as hot as he feared.

The demon looked down at their hands and then up to the angel, trapped in a baffled silence.

“I just had an extraordinary idea, my friend.” He said.

When he pulled his hand away, there was something tucked in Crowley’s. It was a paper from the very desk of one Aziraphale. It even had a hint of vanilla and the smell of old books. Crowley slowly opened it, finding only an address, several miles from where they were now.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“I – well let’s just say, I’ve nearly forgotten about this place. No one would ever think to look for him there and you can go to visit him whenever you want?” He said with a demure smile.

“Really?”

There was an excitement in Crowley’s voice that sent a tingle through the angel. Whether this was a good idea or an evil one; his intention was pure.

“We should be off, there’s a clearing in traffic. If we start now, we should make it in no time.” Aziraphale said.

Without another word, Crowley started the vehicle throwing it in gear. The Bentley eased away from the side of the dirt road.

He’d merged easily onto the freeway. It was the first and only time it had ever happened, almost as if by divine fate, though Aziraphale wouldn’t admit to it.

The drive was only twenty minutes but it felt so much longer, like the end of something meaningful. In truth, it was the beginning of something beautiful.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale announced as the Bentley rolled to a stop at what appeared to be an abandoned amusement park.

Crowley opened his door, slowly getting out. Dreadnaught nearly knocked him flat as he came over the seat and out the door into the open world. Aziraphale rounded the car to meet him.

“What? Here? This place is a wreck.”

“You’re not looking at it the proper way.” He tittered.

Crowley looked at him; a long pause lingered between them.

Finally, the angel plucked his sunglasses from his face with one hand, while holding out a pair of his own. These glasses were pearly white just like his suit, with rose colored glasses.

At first, Crowley sneered at them and then started to laugh. “Rose colored glasses, are you kidding me?”

Aziraphale joined him. “Well, it’s not my finest miracle but it’ll have to suffice.”

Crowley turned to Dreadnaught who was making short work of a tree stump, outside of the chain link fence. It all changed once he put the glasses on. The dreary sky gave way to the shimmering golden sun. The trees surrounding the amusement park were the greenest he’d ever seen before. The park was gone now, replaced by a wide open field of green grass and wild flowers of every hue.

Aziraphale leaned close and whispered in Crowley’s ear. “It’s your own personal garden of Eden, sans the fruit.”

“What?” He jolted, turning to look at his friend. “How?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes bashfully and smiled. “A miracle of course, I happen to be quiet prolific in them, after all.”

“You,” Crowley laughed. “You son of a-”

“Go play! You dog is waiting for you.”

Crowley laughed again, his hand rising up for a shake but he immediately launched himself into the angel’s arms. Aziraphale’s closed them across his friend’s back.

“I can never repay you.” He said.

“Tish tosh, now, run along, lest your hound have all the fun.”

Crowley stepped away, nodding. His smile unwavering before her turned and hurried after Dreadnaught, who immediately dropped down to the ground, shaking his haunches before chasing after the demon.

It is believed that angels wear circular objects above their heads called halos. It signifies that everything keeps in constant motion without ended. Angels and demons all hail from the same beginning, some fell from grace and now lead a different existence. Their halos maybe gone, replaced by horns. Many angels think those halos hover above their heads as if by magic, one particular angel believes that it’s a pair of horns that hold them aloft. It’s not a crazy notion. They were all on the same team once.

Crowley ducked beneath a tree branch as Dreadnaught rounded the trunk and tackled him into the grass. For a couple of seconds, Aziraphale no longer saw the large, lumbering beast. Instead, he saw a small dog with stubby legs and a happy face, much like a corgi.

The realization of what he saw must be the same thing that Crowley saw. It only lasted a tick before fading away, but the image was cemented in his mind. A soft exhale brought a smile to the angel’s face and he felt so inclined to join in.

***

As promised, Crowley dropped Aziraphale off around the corner from his shop, bidding him a fond farewell. Before the angel could get out of the car, the demon snapped his fingers, setting right his disheveled outfit, much to the angel’s approval.

“Catch you for tea this weekend?” Aziraphale asked, leaning on the door to speak into the car.

“My treat.” Crowley smiled.

“Oh, you shouldn’t say that, I might make you take me to China or something more outlandish.” He laughed.

“It would be my privilege.”

“Mine as well.” He closed the door.

Aziraphale stepped away from the car, waving as Crowley drove away. He waited until the Bentley was gone before walking down the block to his shop. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with the mess inside.

“There you are.” A voice greeted him, as he reached for the door.

Gabriel was coming up the walk with a newspaper cone full of fried fish and chips.

“Ah, three times in one day, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Aziraphale said, deflated.

“Oh, you know, I – god this stuff is terrible.” He said, taking another bite. “Why do humans put this in their food holes?”

“Some are quite fond of it.”

“Right,” He said, shoving the cone into the hands of a passerby. “Eat in good health, human.”

“Motherf-”

“Yes and a motherfucker to you too.” He said jovially. “It’s so easy to please these humans, no wonder you love it here.”

“That’s it.” Aziraphale said; his smile fading. “At the risk of sounding rude, I’ve had a trying day and I’m not one for visitors right now. I hope you understand.”

“Oh yeah, because of your, uhm, your things being wrecked, what were they called again?”

“Books sir.”

“That’s it, books, well I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell that the hound is no more.” He said.

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “You mean, you found it?”

“No, we received a message from one of your underlings, actually, the beast has apparently returned from whence it came.”

“Wait, did you say it was one of my underlings?”

“Yes, someone by the name of Yelworc sent a note to Michael, personally.” He held up a piece of familiar looking paper.

Aziraphale unfolded it, surprised to see that it bore his personal title, along the top of the page. _Worry not_ , it said, _the beast has returned from whence it came and I’ve personally filled the hole myself, iffin my name isn’t Yelworc._

The name caused Azairphale to huff an ironic laugh. “Yeah, good man that one, one of my best people.”

“Excellent, it’s always good to have people you can depend on.” He said with a toothy grin, giving Aziraphale’s shoulder a punch.

“Yes,” He said bitterly, fighting to keep his smile.

“It’s nice to have everything’s back to normal, well, everything for me that is.” He laughed. “I’ll take my leave so you can deal with all that mess.”

“Thank you sir.”

Aziraphale didn’t wait for Gabriel to vanish before putting his key in the lock, giving it a turn. Once he stepped in, his hand went for the switch on the wall to his left, giving it a flick.

What he found was something of a miracle in its own right. His once disheveled shop was back to the way it was. Not a single book harmed by the hell hound.

“Crowley, you’re simply amazing.” He said, shaking his head.

As was stated, unexpected happenings can be a wonderful thing as well as a curse. Crowley knew believed this too, which is why he put everything back the way it was meant to be with a little something extra just for Aziraphale.

The angel stopped by his new collection, running his hands along the tops of the now seven, perfectly even books and smiled. Whereas God works in mysterious ways, so too does Crowley.

All was right with the world, once again.


End file.
